Harry Potter and his Angst Filled Life
by KopyKatBug
Summary: Harry suffers from the loss of so many close to him in a humorous and angsty way. Post HBP.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and his Angst-Filled Life

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter… or whatever you're supposed to put in a disclaimer.

Chapter One:

Harry Potter had received a letter. "At last," he exclaimed, and walked across the room to where Hedwig stood, perched on the outside ledge of his bedroom window. He opened it and she flew inside immediately. Harry sat on his bed with her, took off the letter, and untied it. What awaited him wasn't what he had hoped for.

Dear Harry,

I hate you. Never talk to me again, you big, fat loser. Gosh, who do you think you are, 'The Chose One'? What's that all about? Leave me alone, fool. I don't want to be your friend anymore, you baby. You're a git. You're a foolhardy menace, Harry Potter. Jeez, you fat lump. Go back to your home on whore island.

From, Ron Weasley

Wow, that was a lot of angst, thought Harry as he scrolled up the letter. Well, now he was feeling kind of sad. So instead, he lighted the letter on fire. Then he kicked a hole right through the wall. He proceded to attack his desk, then throw rocks at his door, and even write bad words on his bed sheets. Then he calmed down. Ah, how could he have lost control like that? Well, that was that. He was no longer friends with Ron.

Now what to do? Harry decided he must be getting hungry, and that was what had made him act with such angst. So he traveled downstairs to the kitchen. Once he had entered, he found his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley all sitting around the table. "What do you want, you horrible scumbag?" his uncle roared, the moment the door snapped shut behind him. "Food," answered Harry, indifferent to his uncles hatred tone of voice. "Fine, but don't dirty up the kitchen with your grimy hands and ugly feet and slimy hair," his aunt told him. Harry had has enough. "SHUT UP," he roared at his aunt. "NO!" his aunt yelled back. Harry picked up the toaster and threw it with all his force. It went flying through the air and right through the kitchen window too. Glass flew all over the table, where the family was sitting. "Teach you to mess with me," said Harry, and walked out of the room without any food.

What a bad day Harry was having. He might as well steal some money from the Dursely's and go to a nearby restraunt to eat- it didn't seem like he'd be getting any food from the Dursley's kitchen. So that's exactly what he did.

Harry quickly went up to his aunt and uncle's room, where he saw aunt Petunia's purse sitting neatly on the bed. He grabbed three 50 pound notes, equal to around 267 American dollars. And then without a sound, he strode out the front door and hopped into the drivers seat of his uncle's brand new car. He would just have to go on a little joy-ride. Harry had grabbed the keys while upstairs and jammed them into the ignition. He turned the key and sped off into the night before the Dursley's could do anything about it. The sun was just falling behind the horizon, and a horrible greenish- orange color fell across the sky. "PERFECT!" Harry yelled angrily, as he noticed this. "Ruin the one thing that makes me happy- the sunset." And with that, he cried all the way until he got to Burger King.

He grabbed his aunt's money, pocketed the car's keys, and walked, hunched-over and depressed, into the restraunt. He found a table by himself, in the corner and ordered three hamburgers. Harry looked around. In the corner above him were great, ugly spiderwebs. And under the table were crumbs. Just peachy, he thought and slammed his fists into the table. After he had a quiet meal, he put the rest of the money into his shoe- he wasn't going to return it. And out in the parking lot, he met another surprise.

It was Ron. Leaning against a red porshe, with four veela-looking girls all around him, feeding him grapes, and fanning him in the summer heat. "Oi, Potter!" he yelled. Harry stopped in his track and weeled around. Ron was pointing a silvery metal something at him. It took him a moment to realize Ron had a gun. "Blimey," he said hoarseley to himself. "I want to kill you," Ron said. Good thing the parking lot was empty, or their would have been police on the scene in less than thirty seconds. Harry could handle this himself. But he had no gun, and he didn't want to be sent to Azkaban, for using his wand in a muggle-populated area. Ao instead he lunged at Ron. He beat him up pretty good. By the time the fight was over, Ron was unconsious, with a broken arm, bloody lip, black eye, and scratched all down his arms and legs. Possibly a broken rib too. All of his girls had fled. Harry pocketed the gun and drove away. "Teach him to mess with me," he muttered.

When he got back to the Dursley's, they were waiting for him on the porch. His aunt and uncle immediately started screeching at him and his uncle even raised a fist. But Harry just pointed the gun and they were soon out of his way. He went inside and up to his room, fuming. He hated the world. With that final thought, he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Harry woke the next morning to see the sun shining in through the window, casting twinkling light beams on the opposite wall, his door painted the freshest white, his sheets perfectly aligned. He put on his glasses. Then he saw the real devastation of yesterday- a giant hole right in the middle of his wall, several dents in his door from the rocks, his sheets obnoxiously lying every which way, with obscene words written on them. He gave a sigh. Better get cleaning. Yeah, right!

Harry got out of bed, and decided to at least pick up the rocks all over his room. These rocks had been sent to him by Lupin a week ago. A note in the package of oddly shaped and colored rocks read:

Dear Harry,

How's your summer been? Hope it's going well. I've just been to Sirius's house to send you these. I know you're going through a hard time now- the death of so many close to you must upset you. Now, these aren't any ordinary rocks, Harry. They're called Nellaphims. And they brighten the spirit. If ever you're feeling down and low, squeeze the rock in your right hand tightly for a few seconds until it disappears. You'll see the effects. The four of us used to use these before full moon. Especially me. Hope to see you soon.

From, Lupin

Once the rocks were back in the box, he re-read the note. Why not? He certainly was in a bad mood. Harry picked up a dark blue rock. It was jagged and thin. He squeezed it in his hand. A sensation unlike anything he'd ever experienced spread through his body- not his body, it didn't feel like his body. Deeper down. His soul. Harry felt light, happy, and confident. The rock had disappeared. Harry jumped up from his place on his bed. Tsk, tsk, he though. How could I have let my room get in such a bad state? All day Harry tidied his room, washed his sheets, and did random chores around the house. Just before dinner, the Dursley's arrived home and the Nellaphims were still working fine on Harry.

"POTTER!" Uncle Vernon roared, the second he was inside. "Yes?" Harry asked, walking down the stairs. "Don't take that tone with me, you ungrateful jerk. What the bloody hell did you think you were doing yesterday? WHAT?" "Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Harry replied with a smile. "Oh, no. What've you done?" Vernon said, backing away. "PETUNIA! Petunia, he's acting weird." Harry just walked up to his uncle and gave him a great big hug, then went upstairs for a nap.

When Harry woke up from his nap, he felt a little disoriented. Then he remembered. "Oh my god," he whispered to himself. What had happened? Those stupid rocks hadn't just put him in a good mood; he had actually hugged his uncle. One thing was sure now; the Neallphims had definitely worn off. Harry felt disgusted with himself.

He decided not to go down to dinner. He needed to plot revenge on the Dursley's. They didn't deserve anything like a hug. They even deserved worse than the gun incident yesterday. So he began to plot...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

I should probably explain Harry's current situation more clearly. Harry has just arrived home from his sixth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After the death of Sirius and Dumbledore, Harry's begun to fall apart. He'd been putting off the Horcruxes for so long, it is almost his seventeenth birthday. Now with Ron lost from his side, Harry is starting to experience the first signs of losing his sanity- or so you think…

---

Harry sat on his bed, a crazy malicious grin wide on his face. He began to laugh. A very high-pitched laugh. He was wringing his hands together and starting to foam at the mouth. After a while he calmed down and began to plot his revenge on the Dursley's. After minutes of thinking, he had nothing. So he stepped out into the hallway. He could hear hushed voices traveling up the stairs, but he didn't stop and listen.

Harry decided to venture into his aunt and uncle's room to see if this could trigger any ideas. Aha! While rummaging through his aunt's bedside cabinet, he'd found it. Another stash of money. What was going on? Where was all this money coming from? Just then, his aunt walked into the room and noticed Harry. "What are you doing, you great stinking oaf?" she yelled. "Where's all this money coming from?" Harry asked, his voice quietly dangerous. He pulled the gun out from his pocket and pointed it at his aunt. "I-I-" she stuttered. "I'm a robber!" she finally admitted. "Aha!" Harry yelled, grabbed the giant money stash, and ran out of the room, the same scary laughter coming out of his mouth. His aunt just stood stunned near the door of her bedroom. 

Harry ran down the stairs and met Dudley in the middle. They both stopped and stared. Then Dudley's fist came flying through the air and hit Harry straight in the face. His glasses shattered. "Arghhhh," Harry screamed and punched back. He his Dudley so hard, he went crashing all the way down the stairs. He hit his head on the bottom floor and didn't get back up. He heard his aunt shriek from the top of the stairs, but didn't dare move for Harry had pulled out the gun again. 

Uncle Vernon came running into the room. "You killed him, you killed him!" his uncle screamed and ran toward Dudley. He definitely had not killed him, for Dudley was already making small noises again and beginning to wake up. His uncle glared up at his face, "I would call the cops on you, boy, if you weren't all funny and weird. I know what you would do to them. Now, GET OUT!" Harry just shrugged, pocketed the gun, and walked out the front door. That was enough revenge for now, he decided.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: 

Harry kept walking to the end of the street. Then he pulled off his ruined glasses and slipped them inside his pocket also. He touched it to his wand and pulled them out brand new. He needed time to think, he decided, so he headed to the field near the towns local church. Within ten minutes he was there. He looked around the empty parking lot of the church. Someone had recently mowed the field. A willow tree stood smack in the middle of it, and Harry wandered over to it and slumped down beside it. 

He gave a great sigh. He needed to figure things out. He was going crazy in the Durlsey's and he knew it. Hermione has sent him countless letters, all wanting to know when the three of them would start their journey to destroy the Horcruxes. It was been announced in the Daily Prophet a few weeks ago that Hogwarts would not be re-opening. She'd written that Ron had also sent her a hate letter, but had not described it well. When Harry got his own, he realized they must have been similar. His mind strayed to Ron for a while… why had he suddenly turned away from his two best friends like that?

He would write to Hermione when he got back home. In a few days it would be his seventeenth birthday and he would no longer be guarded by his mother's love at the Dursley's. That's when they would start their journey. And Aunt Petunia- a robber? What was that all about? Ah, well, he always knew she was weird. Harry wouldn't mention anything to his uncle, he was through with the Durley's- let them be. These last few days would be the last he'd spend with them probably for the rest of his life.

After all that thinking, Harry felt relieved- he should come up here more often. Nut now he was back to his angsty self. All the way home, he kicked trees, threw rocks, spit at dogs that came up to him. He just supposed he was experiencing such anger because he had experienced much death. It was normal, right? The Dursley's weren't home when Harry got there. Probably at the hospital, Harry though, a grin sliding into place on his face. He went to his room and wrote to Hermione, explaining his decisions. He sent Hedwig off and began to pack. And all through his packing, that strange laugh kept creeping up out of Harry. That strange, cold, cruel new laugh of his.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Harry woke the next morning to a strange tapping noise. He reached for his glasses and looked around. Hedwig was at the window, with Hermione's response. He glanced at the clock on his way to the window, it read 6:02 am. Hermione must be eager. He let Hedwig in, took off the letter, and opened it up. The letter read:

Dear Harry,  
I'm so glad you finally wrote back! I can't wait to get started. Listen, I've got some ideas. First, I think we should meet at Grimmauld Place. That is, if you're okay with it. It will be deserted and we can spend a few days their planning our journey. Meet me there at noon on July 31st? I was thinking we could bring our things there- call it our new home for a while… I've been reading everything I could get my hands on lately, I think I've got a few ideas. Write me back and I'll see you Sunday, I hope.   
Yours, Hermione

Grimmauld Place… Harry promised himself last year he'd never step foot in that place again. It'd bring back too many memories. But Hermione was right, it would be the perfect place. He'd just have to get over himself. If he was going to finish off the Voldemort, how hard could it be to go into a house? He wrote back Hermione, saying he'd see her Sunday. Then he picked up with his packing where he'd left off last night. 

On Sunday, he'd be seventeen. He'd be of age. Could use magic legally now! He finished packing quickly enough, then settled down on his bed and began to think. He tried thinking of efficient things, like how he'd find the Horcruxes, but his mind kept slipping back to Sirius. "Arghhhhhhhhh!" he suddenly roared, and broke off the corner of his wooden bed frame and threw it at his desk. His aim was a little off, it flew straight past Hedwig, almost hitting her. She gave an angry screech and flew off through the open window. Ug, what was he supposed to do all day now? "Thanks a lot, Hermione. Sending me that stupid letter this early. Now I'm awake with nothing to do. Gosh, you blubbering nitwit," he said aloud. "FREAKING IDIOT!"

Their was nothing else to do besides go down for breakfast, which Harry did. He found the kitchen empty. The Durlsey's would be waking up soon to go to work. He ate fast then went back upstairs. Harry tried going back to sleep but it was no good. He spent the rest of his day wandering around the neighborhood, taking what he hoped would be his last walk around these horrible streets. After dinner, when Harry was back in his room, he spotted his letter to Hermione still lying on his desk. 

"Bloody hell," Harry cursed. He'd forgotten to send the letter. Hedwig was back now, so he tied it on and let her out the window. She was still mad at him for throwing the piece of his bed at her. She glared at him right before taking off and Harry stuck his tongue out at her. She took off. "Stupid bird!" Harry yelled after her. "Flying around like you think you're so much better than me because I can't fly. Just because I don't have wings doesn't make me any less special than you!" And with that, he slammed the window shut so hard, all the glass shattered out. "Take that!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

"_Prepare to die, Potter," said Ron, raising his wand high. "Noooooooooo!" Harry screamed. "Yes," Ron replied. "No, Harry said simply. "Then what shall we do?" Ron asked. "How about a cup of tea?" Harry suggested. "Nah, I'd rather you die," Ron said, his voice returning to the icy, cold one. "AVADA KEDAV-"_

Harry woke with a start. What a strange dream he had just been having. Ron wanted him dead… Well, it made sense, he remembered. Ron did hate him now. Come to think of it, Harry missed his old best friend. But then again he hated him. Harry began foaming at the mouth again, his breathing quickened, and he was sweating all over. He could almost feel his blood boiling within his veins. Such hatred! 

But then Harry heard his stomach growl. Time to get some breakfast. Harry returned back upstairs after a quick bit of toast, and resumed his stop on his bed, hating Ron. If he could get a hold of Ron right now, he'd throw himself at him, tearing him his limbs off. First, he'd take a great, big knife and chuck it. Straight at that stupid, freckly face of his. But he'd never actually do this, would he? Well, he probably would if he had the chance. But he needed to get started with the Horcruxes. Maybe he could fit it into his schedule soon. He decided he'd present the idea to Hermione tomorrow afternoon and see what she thought.

Harry spent the rest of the day being angry with the world. He thought about what he'd do to not only Ron, but loads of people, if he had the chance to punish them. He even got out a bit of parchment and began taking notes on it. Later on, he added this long scroll to his other notes. All summer, he'd been writing down odd ideas- all ranging from how to destroy Horcruxes, to questions he should have asked Dumbledore, and now to violent encounters he'd like to experience.

---

The next morning, Harry's alarm clock woke him up at 8 o'clock. The first thing he though of, was that it was his birthday! This was the first time he was actually excited for it to be his birthday. He was of age, could do magic anytime now. Just for fun, Harry got out his wand and did some random magic. Along with that, he fixed the window and his bed frame. Then he headed downstairs for breakfast.

The rest of the Dursley's were sitting down, and ignored Harry as he entered the room. Of course they wouldn't mention anything to Harry- they had never once told him 'Happy Birthday' in his life. But while he was making his toast, what he didn't notice was aunt Petunia shooting him odd glances. Harry ate his breakfast quietly over the sink, instead of at the tables with the rest of the Dursley's. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were having a conversation about television programs, but aunt Petunia remained silent. Harry found this quiet odd, and glanced over at her, only to find her staring back at him too. Harry broke the eye contact, and cleaned up his breakfast, but his aunt continued to stare.

"May I see you in the living room for a moment, Harry?" she asked suddenly. Harry noticed she looked incredibly uncomfortable. Uncle Vernon and Dudley had stopped talking now. "What-" his uncle began, but Petunia just walked out of the kitchen, Harry following. 

She began pacing in the living room. Harry thought he knew what this was about. "Er- I'm seventeen now," Harry began. His aunt stopped pacing and nodded. "Yes," his aunt finally replied. "The charm is done. This house won't protect you anymore." It seemed so strange to hear his aunt talk about magic. "Right, well, I'm leaving soon," Harry continued. His aunt looked questioning. "The school's not open anymore. I'm not going back for my last year. I'm going to live in my godfather's house," he explained. "Right," Petunia replied. Well…" And his aunt stuck out her hand. Harry hesitated for a moment, then shook it. 

The moment was awkward, and they let go quickly. It was nice of her to say goodbye, Harry thought. But Harry would never forgive her. Never. For all she put him through. She may be his mother's sister, but he still hated her. He fixed his face with no emotion, then walked out of the room.

And that was that. He spent the rest of the morning in his room, making sure everything was ready to go. He packed everything he would ever need. He was never coming back to the Dursley's. At ten to eleven, he performed a spell to make his trunk feather-light, then sent Hedwig on her way to Grimmauld Place. She would arrive there later tonight. Harry picked up his trunk, turned on the spot, and with a small 'pop', he was gone from the Durlsey's forever. He never had to go back to the house he'd never called home. He was seventeen and full of angst. A few moments and another 'pop' later, and he stood on the doorstep to his new home. Number 12 Grimmauld Place loomed in front of him like an intimidating memory. He tapped his wand to the door handle, and walked inside, bracing himself for the pain that waited to escape his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

"Harry!" Hermione cried the moment Harry had closed the door. She'd come running into the room, and gave Harry a hug. "Hi," Harry replied. "How are you?" she asked, looking concerned. Harry looked around the dark room and gave an involuntary shudder. The truth was, he felt horrible. He was overwhelmed with thoughts of Sirius.

"Fine," he replied. "Let's get out of here though," he said, motioning to the grungy hallway they were standing in. Together they lifted the trunk, although that was not needed as it was still feather-light, and carried it into the kitchen. Everything looked the same as it had the last summer, only a thin layer of dust had settled over everything, as no one had been here for a whole year, ever since they had vacated the building and removed Headquarters from here. Except for Mundungus, Harry thought, starting to feel angrier. Mundungus had been stealing from Sirius, selling his things illegally. But he was in Azkaban now. Serves him right. The thieving, idiotic loser. And certainly, Bellatrix Lestrange had not been here. Dumbledore had thought she might have decided to move in- the home was supposed to go to her, the closest relative to Sirius still alive. But it seemed no one had inhabited this house for quite a while. Harry noticed Hermione was staring at him. 

"Oh, yes, happy birthday," she said with a smile, and pulled something out of her pocket. Harry unwrapped the package slowly, and inside he found a box of familiar-looking stones. "They're called Nellaphims," Hermione began to explain. "I know," Harry cut her off. "Lupin got me some too." He sat the stones down on the table and took a seat.

"Oh," said Hermione, her voice sounding slightly hurt, as Harry had not seemed to like her present much. "Well, I thought you'd need some cheering up," she tried. "Yeah," Harry said. "Thanks."

Hermione changed the subject. She seemed to be more on task now. She pulled out a great pile of notes. "I've had some ideas for the Horcruxes," she said. "Oh yeah, me too," Harry said, grateful the subject had left changed, leaving the sadness behind. Harry pulled out his notes too. The pair chatted long into the night, theorizing what the Horcruxes were, where they could be. They took more notes too. They came to some conclusions. They decided to go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow and see what was even there; neither of them knew anything about it. Harry wanted to go, though. But first they would get Harry's apparition license. Just when the conversation was winding down, Harry remembered the other list he had made. He pulled it out and pushed it toward Hermione.

Her eyes widened as she read. "Harry, what-?" she started, looking up from the parchment. Her face looked fearful. Hermione seemed at a loss for words. "I know it's a lot," Harry began, "but we could try to get some of them in when have a little extra time, right?" Hermione stared unblinkingly at him. "Harry, I'm worrying about you."

"You don't like the ideas?" Harry asked. He thought she would understand. Okay, he could admit he'd gone a little overboard with Ron's description of death, but he thought the idea of trapping Malfoy in the lion's cage was at least worth a try.

"Harry, what's happened? You've changed. Why do you suddenly want to hurt all these people?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking. "You're right," Harry said, covering for himself. "I don't really want to do that. I just got carried away." He took his list and put it away. "I think I'll go to bed now." And he left the room with Hermione still sitting at the kitchen table, staring unbelievingly at Harry.


End file.
